


Re-visionary

by OneofWebs



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Abigail Hobbs Lives, Adopted Abigail Hobbs, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Will Graham, Canon Compliant, Domestic, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Dynamics, Fishing, Italy, Literal Sleeping Together, Living Together, M/M, Rimming, Running Away, Time Skips, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24878362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Will Graham has seen this before. He doesn't know how, but he knows what will happen if something doesn't change. Someone will die here tonight; except, nobody has to. He just has to make the right decisions. If he does, nobody dies, and he finds the life that he's been dreaming of.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 289





	Re-visionary

**Author's Note:**

> I recently finished the Hannibal series. Thanks daddy netflix. the first and immediate thing I did was cry about the fact that Abigail died because i loved her. the second thing I did was write a fic where she did not die. the third thing i did was sneak a smut piece in at the end because I simply cannot help myself.
> 
> Anyway. First Hannibal fic ever. do have intentions to write more. hope you enjoy!
> 
> p.s. in this house we force hannibal to play stupid board games and no one can convince me otherwise. next time he's playng clue. then im thinking hungry hungry hippos. i don't think that qualifies as a board game but whatever i make the rules here.

He had been here before, in the rain, with the pounding of his heart right in his ears. In another life, in a dream, in some twisted version of reality that he couldn’t quite remember, himself, Will Graham had been here before. It was more likely to have been the third of his options, given his recent experiences. He’d seen this before because he’d imagined that he would be here, in this exact scenario, where everything had gone as wrong as it could have. It was about to get worse, and the only one who could stop it was him, because he’d seen it all before.

When he came up the front stairs, there was Alana Bloom. He reacted just like he knew he would, in a sudden panic. Dropping down beside her, he shrugged his jacket off. But he knew she would be here, because he’d seen it before. Still, his reactions were the same. Cover her from the rain—make sure she was okay. She was breathing; bloodied but breathing. The breathing was what mattered. Will just had this feeling that she would survive, and things would be okay.

She seemed to agree. She said she was okay, but it left room for questions all the same. She couldn’t move. She’d be lucky to walk out of this at any point in the future, but Will had a feeling that she would. He had a feeling that everything would sort itself out, because, somehow, it had before. He’d seen it. Sorted through it through his own mind in the moments where he wasn’t quite sure where he was or what he was seeing. It was the best idea that he could come up with.

Will left her there and turned back towards the house. With his gun drawn, he reached for the doorknob and hesitated. Just for the briefest moment, he wondered if he’d made it all up. If he’d _imagined_ he knew what he was going to face to make it less frightening, because something was going to end the moment he walked through this door. He cursed himself. He cursed Jack. There was a plan in place for tonight, a plan that was going to work, but it had all fallen right apart.

Hannibal might say he was trying to protect himself from the frightening truth of inevitability. That, no matter what he did, this was a moment where he had lost all control. It was only in his mind where he could find some to regain, and he did so in the most inefficient way possible. Like he _knew_ what would happen once he turned that doorknob. His own doubt didn’t stop him.

In the span of time it took for only a single raindrop to hit the ground, Will had coursed through his thoughts and made his decision. The sights of his pistol led his way through the door; he left the door open and walked forward as quietly as he could. The floorboards in Hannibal’s house had never squeaked, and they wouldn’t now, but one could never be too careful. Will needed to stay hidden, so he needed to stay quiet. If he had any hope in succeeding here, tonight, it would be because he was the better stalker. The better hunter.

Will stepped through the foyer; he knew the house like a memory. Like a map he could see through the dark of his eyelids when he breathed, when he blinked. It was dripped in red, this time. Alana’s red. Jack’s red. Hannibal’s red. Will had known just how much red flowed through this house, but he’d never imagined how wrong he was. It wasn’t for lack of imagination; it was because believed too much in something fabricated out of nothing. Fabricated out of his own fear of the monster he might have let himself become.

He never imagined the alternative; he would never _let_ himself imagine the alternative. It was too dangerous of a thought for him to allow himself to play with it. There were already ghosts that haunted him, but if he’d have ever let _hers_ haunt him, he wouldn’t have ever found a way back from it.

There were footsteps behind him. Footsteps that didn’t care about getting caught, and it set off every alarm Will had ever trained himself to have. He assumed the worst. He assumed Hannibal was standing right behind him, ready to strike—a caged and cornered animal not used to being the prey.

All at once, Will realized the exact reason why she’d never haunted him. He’d seen so many dead bodies, and they’d all been there in his dreams, when he was awake. She never was. He thought it was a blessing. He thought, by some saving grace, his own mind was giving him a rest he so desperately needed in the wake of all that had happened. And he’d been wrong.

He’d never been so happy to have been wrong.

Abigail Hobbs didn’t haunt him because Abigail Hobbs had no ghost. She was standing right there.

“Abigail,” he breathed. She looked like she’d been crying—like she was about to cry.

All she could do was shake her head. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she pleaded, “so, I just did what he told me.”

“Where is he? Tell me where he is. I need to talk to him.”

That wasn’t right. That wasn’t what Will meant to say. This had all been a set up to _kill_ Hannibal, hadn’t it? And then, in one last strange moment of regret, Will had warned Hannibal. He didn’t want Hannibal to die. Or did he? He’d come here with a gun, like he intended to be the one to put Hannibal in the ground. Nothing added up. Nothing made sense. He couldn’t take it back now.

He saw just the slightest glance of Abigail’s eyes, and Will knew exactly where Hannibal was. Right behind him. Just where he knew Hannibal would be, somehow, from the moment he stepped into this house. Will had let it all happen, hadn’t he? He’d turned around, given Hannibal the chance. This was going to end badly if he didn’t do something. If it was just him, he might not have cared, but it was Abigail. He wouldn’t be the reason she suddenly had a ghost.

Will turned on his heel, taking one step back. He stood between Abigail and Hannibal, and with the speed that he’d moved, one extra thought would have had him raise his gun and pull the trigger. He didn’t. He could argue with himself as much as he wished, but in that moment, when it came down to the actions of the subconscious alone, he didn’t act. Only a man who didn’t want to act wouldn’t act in the moment.

“You were supposed to _leave_ ,” Will said, and it sounded more desperate than it had in his head. What was it that he wanted, exactly?

“We couldn’t leave without you,” Hannibal replied, as if it were obvious. It was obvious. It had to have been, with the way it seemed to make something squeeze just inside of Will’s chest.

The way Hannibal looked at him. Will had seen that look before, but he’d never wanted to know what it meant. Never wanted to admit to himself that he already knew what it meant. There was no hesitation when Hannibal reached for him, either. Just the slight stutter in his fingers before Hannibal decided just precisely where he wanted to place them; everything he did was calculated, like that. Will knew it. It should have scared him, but in that moment where Hannibal put his hand on Will’s face, he was anything but afraid.

Will dropped the gun and rested the same hand over Hannibal’s fingers. Shock dripped down Hannibal’s face in a way Will had never seen before. Up until that very moment, Will believed that shocking Hannibal Lecter was on the long list of things he wasn’t capable of doing. With one touch, he’d proved himself wrong. Hannibal had a way of always being one step ahead; he’d seen this entire scene in every way that it could have played out except for one. This way.

The subtle touch of Will’s fingertips was enough to take Hannibal out of the moment. It was like caging an animal who had never once considered that he might be captured. In fact, that animal had spent so long imagining all the ways that he could be captured in order to avoid it that he’d forgotten the finest and simplest of tactics. Just a touch. Will’s fingers over his own. Just a second, two seconds now of a simple, intimate touch that he’d never once considered possible. Not in the way that it happened before him, now.

When Will moved, it was in the third second, when Hannibal was only attempting to recover from the touch. It didn’t occur to him that the movement might mean anything other than his death; Will had come here to kill him, and he believed that. He’d been prepared to return the favor. But he didn’t have the chance. In the fourth second, Will had met him in the middle of the air that had once been between them. Hannibal’s breath might have caught in his throat.

Will was against his chest, arms around his waist. Nothing desperate. Nothing fast. If anything, it had been slow. A total of five, dragging seconds where neither one of them had really known what was going to happen until it happened, but there it was. An embrace. More than Hannibal could have expected, yet still less than he wanted. It was hard to know what he wanted, in that moment. With one arm, he returned the embrace. With the other, he raised the knife to the very top of Will’s spine.

It would be the perfect kill. Hannibal let his gaze wander from the top of Will’s head over to Abigail, where she was standing petrified with her own fear. She saw the knife. She must have known what Hannibal wanted to do, but all it took was a look for her to bite down on her lip and not say a word. She just watched. She watched the seconds that went by as Hannibal readied to do what he’d planned to do. Someone wasn’t going to leave this house alive.

But then, Hannibal stopped short. All it took was a breath.

“I’m here now,” Will said. One breath in. One breath out.

Hannibal stopped. Time seemed to stop with him.

“We can go.”

Hannibal dropped the knife. Before it even clattered to the floor, he had his other arm wrapped around Will’s shoulders. He pulled him closer, held him tighter. He all but squeezed Will into his chest, and he felt the same squeeze in return. Hannibal let himself believe in the moment just a little while longer, relaxing against Will, resting against his head. Will didn’t move, not for a long moment. Not until it was time to pull away, and even then, Will didn’t leave, completely. He rather gripped into Hannibal’s waist like the hold was his lifeline.

“I called for an ambulance,” Will said. The moment was over; the panic was returning. “We have to be gone before they get here.”

“Our bags are packed and ready to go,” Hannibal replied, looking to Abigail. Will turned to see her, too, and she nodded. Bags were packed.

“Great, then we need to go.” Will was ready to forgo all of his possessions. Wherever they were going, he could get more there. The only thing that gave him pause were the dogs, but he didn’t have time to worry. When Alana pulled through, because she would, she would take care of them.

“Where are the bags?” Will asked, finally finding the strength to let go of Hannibal. He kicked the knife across the floor as he moved, but no one paid mind to it.

“Already packed,” Hannibal said. “Abigail will ride with me, and—”

“No time.” Will shook his head. “You need to get into something a little _less_ covered in blood; Abigail and I will move the bags. My car has more room. You can drive.” Will didn’t hesitate to take his keys from his pants pocket and toss them to Hannibal.

There was the briefest look between them in which Will begged for Hannibal’s trust, and Hannibal relented to do so. That was the point of the keys. An olive branch. Hannibal could trust this wasn’t a part of some convoluted plan to save Abigail and leave Hannibal to accept the downfall. They couldn’t drive off without those keys, and Will trusted Hannibal enough to have them. Hannibal had to trust back.

They separated. Hannibal went for the stairs while Will took Abigail by the wrist. They went for the front door. Abigail didn’t have time to question it, nor did she really want to. This was something like the _dream_ Hannibal had talked about. He’d talked about it for so long that she was sure she wanted it to. She might have even wanted it before Hannibal had started talking about it. Still, it didn’t feel exactly right.

“You’re just going along with him?” Abigail asked. The front door was still wide open, and they went right out, back into the pouring rain.

“I don’t know,” Will admitted. He said it just as they passed Alana, and he tried not to look at her. “I’ll worry about the details later, for now—we need to move the bags.”

Abigail nodded. Hannibal had left the car unlocked, for a clean getaway, and Will hadn’t bothered to lock his own. They didn’t need the keys for this move. Hopefully, they could have everything settled by the time Hannibal joined them. They were on borrowed time.

“I just don’t understand why,” Abigail pressed. She handed Will the first bag. “After all that he’s done—after all that _I_ did, you would still—?” Another bag.

“Wouldn’t you?” Will asked. He looked right at her, and maybe she didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to.

Fear was a powerful thing, but Abigail had seen herself through situations more dire than this. Fear wouldn’t have been enough to keep her there, even with how grand the consequences may have been. She would have faced those consequences, glad enough with herself for having at least tried, if the only thing holding her to that house was _fear_. Will didn’t need to hear her say it, because he knew. He felt the same. It was awe. It might have even been love.

They tossed the bags between each other, from the back seat of Hannibal’s car to the hatch of Will’s. When they were finished, Will opened the door for Abigail, where she sat behind the passenger seat. Will didn’t have much to offer beside a single ratty old blanket he kept in the back, but it was better than the raw cold of the rain and wet clothes. Once she was comfortable, or as comfortable as she could be, Will shut the door. He turned back towards the house.

Hannibal met them right on time. He was dressed properly for the weather, back in his long coat. He had another coat in his arms, and he pressed that into Will as he approached. Will looked at him, then down at the coat. He took it hesitantly.

“For you,” Hannibal said. “Until we can get you into something better suited for the weather.”

Will cracked a weak smile and took it. “You’re driving,” he reminded as he slipped the jacket over his shoulders.

“Of course. Shall we, then?”

Will nodded. He didn’t know if this was a good idea. He didn’t know if this was even what he wanted, but it was what he was doing. He climbed into the passenger seat as Hannibal walked around the front of the car. He took the driver’s seat. Behind them, Abigail had moved into the middle seat and had the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She hadn’t bothered with a seatbelt, because there was no reason to. Hopefully, they were leaving within enough time that there wouldn’t be any real running.

It would be just like a Sunday drive, only the stakes were higher. Will just relaxed against the seat and looked out the window. He was sure they would pass the ambulance on the way. Maybe even more police responding in a desperate need for backup. For all Will knew, they would find two dead in Hannibal’s home. He would not be among them, and neither would Abigail. That, at least, he could consider a success.

“Where are we headed?” Will asked, finally glancing at Hannibal.

“The airport,” Hannibal said. “We have a flight for Italy.”

“Italy,” Will repeated. “Can’t say I’ve ever been.”

Hannibal grinned. “Don’t worry. You’ll find I can make quite the guide.”

Will believed that. He was even looking forward to it. He wasn’t looking forward to the crowds and the people, but Hannibal had a _place_ for them. Surely, that meant a place that they could all enjoy. He imagined all of the possibilities and found that all he really needed was some place with water. He wanted to teach Abigail how to fish. Now, he really could.

With that, Will leaned into the lip before the window and let his forehead press into the glass. It was cold, and he knew he would have a headache by the time they arrived at their destination, but he didn’t move. He just closed his eyes and relaxed. Italy would be good for him. It would be good for all of them.

That had been a year prior. Things were different, now. So different that Will still wasn’t quite sure how he got here, but he certainly didn’t mind that it’d happened. If anything, he was _enjoying_ himself, loathe as he was to admit it. They had a bit of a schedule, and they were headed home for that very reason. It was Saturday. He and Abigail had left on Thursday for a fishing trip, and during that time, Hannibal could do whatever it was he pleased. Mealtime would be the fresh caught fish. Sunday would be whatever Hannibal wanted to cook up.

There were times, of course, where Hannibal needed help. After a year, neither one of them minded helping. Will still hesitated to say that he enjoyed it. He hesitated further to say that Abigail enjoyed it—or, that she was _good_ at it. These were just the things that he’d gotten used to. A year ago, he might have shuddered at the idea of casual killing, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d made it out to be. As long as they weren’t on their way to getting caught, it was fine. They were fine.

Will turned up the radio and took the next left. They were about forty-five minutes out of town, an hour out from the house. They’d be home just in time to plop the fish out in front of Hannibal and tell him to go absolutely _wild_ making whatever fancy dish he felt the fish deserved. They would shower, in the meantime.

“Are you trying to drown out your thoughts again?” Abigail piqued up, reaching out to turn the radio back down. “I’m going to be deaf by the time we get home.”

Will snorted. “Yeah, sorry. I was just wondering what Hannibal’s been up to since we left.”

Abigail shrugged, shifting against the passenger door. She looked like she was ready to fall straight asleep, but the bumps in the road were keeping her from it. “I’m sure it was fun. He always seems to have fun.”

Will smiled. “Did you have fun?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said. She looked at him that time, too. “I really did. It was nice. Been awhile, you know? Since we went out and did something.”

“I’m glad. You know, we can go out whenever you want. It doesn’t have to be this planned.”

“We’ll see,” was her vague reply. Will still grinned.

When the next song came on, Abigail was the one who turned it up. It was her turn to drown out whatever thoughts she had. That, or she just meant for the music to be louder than the bumps in the road. It was easier to fall asleep to music than it was to the rough.

Eventually, she did fall asleep, and Will finally changed the station. He spent the rest of the drive home listening to something new, just for a chance of pace. They usually listened to Abigail’s taste; she conveniently shared a few tastes of his, so he never really minded. Every now and again he needed something different. Something a bit more _classical_.

They arrived back at the house precisely when Will thought they would: within the hour. He shook Abigail awake just as he brought the car to a stop. They lived out from town. Not too far that it was impossible to get the things they needed, but far enough that they could have the space and privacy they needed for the things that they did. That, and they were close to the water. Will had always liked the idea of a water feature. Now, he had one.

“You go on inside,” Will said. “I’ll take care of the gear.”

“Are you sure? I can help—”

“You sound like you’re still asleep.” Will laughed and gestured to the door. It was already open, and Hannibal was leaning against the frame with his ankles and arms crossed. “Go inside. I’ll get it all put away. I don’t mind.”

Abigail nodded. She wasn’t going to argue her way into work; that would defeat the invitation to just go take a nice hot shower. There had been no showers where they were, and now that they were home, she could use one. They both could. So, she waved Will goodbye and jumped down out of the car, closing the door behind her. She shoved her hands in her pockets and walked up the front step. Her greeting consisted of a lopsided grin and a one-handed salute, after which, back in the pocket her hand went.

Hannibal smiled at her and gave an odd pat to the shoulder as she walked past him. From there, he pushed away from the door and stepped down off the porch. He met Will at the door of the car, as he hopped down and slammed the door shut.

“Hey,” Will greeted. “I’d say something better is in order, but I stink.”

Hannibal scoffed, pleasantly amused. “You do. From the black rings under Abigail’s eyes, I can assume the two of you had a nice time?”

“Yeah, definitely. We caught a fair amount of fish, too.”

“Dinner, I presume?”

“You can even pick which one you want. Come on.” Will gestured for Hannibal to follow, and Hannibal did. They went to the back of the car, where Will opened up the hatch. Alongside the mound of tied up gear was a rather sizable cooler. Will had picked it out for himself when the holidays came around, and Hannibal had not so subtly made the purchase.

Will tugged the cooler to the end of the car floor and popped it open. Inside was a heavy mound of ice and plenty of fish. They had all been cleaned, but the head left on, no fillet work. That was precisely how Hannibal liked to have them. A fish cooked whole was better than a fish mangled beforehand. It made for a better presentation, even if it tended to worry guests.

“There is enough for tonight and plenty to store,” Hannibal said, looking quite pleased. It was about as good of a compliment as he could make. He looked at Will. “Shall I help you carry this inside?”

“You don’t have to.” Will closed the lid to the cooler. “If you just want to take this so you can get started.”

“I will see you for dinner, then. You could use a shower.” Hannibal made no attempt at subtlety as he looked Will down from head to toe.

“I’ll see right to it,” Will promised with a mock salute. Hannibal quirked an amused smile—either Will picked it up from Abigail, or Abigail picked it up from Will. Either way, he found it cute, of all things.

Hannibal took the cooler and headed back for the door. Will headed for the shed. With Abigail’s help, or sometimes Hannibal’s, he could usually get the gear put away within two or three trips. By himself, that doubled the time. He dragged in load after load, stacking things where they belonged. They’d done the whole song and dance of just drag stuff into the doorway of the shed to be dealt with later before; it hadn’t gotten put away properly until the next time they’d come back for a trip. Will was determined, after that, to ensure everything was put away.

It took him a solid forty-five minutes to get everything stored away, and then he was headed inside. Their house was modest in the only way that Hannibal could _do_ modest, so it was the most extravagant group of four walls that Abigail and Will had both ever lived in. Half of the furniture was what Will considered furniture too find for unruly behaviors like sitting and existing. They did use the family room, but Will always felt a bit stiff. Most of their gatherings were in the kitchen, and the kitchen was _grand_.

Classical music was on repeat, and just under it, Will could hear Hannibal in the kitchen humming along. There was the rhythm of the knife as he went through and cut vegetables. Hannibal always made cooking seem like theater. He put on a show, even if he was the only one in attendance. There had been plenty of days where Will would just sit in the kitchen to watch him cook; even on days when he knew precisely what Hannibal was cooking, he still just wanted to watch.

Will headed up the stairs, instead. He needed to take a shower. A nice, hot shower. From the way that Hannibal had looked at him, Will was sure it would be a long shower, too. He’d keep that bit to himself, though, just to see how the night went. He was hungry, thirsty, and grimy. He couldn’t really think past the idea of a fully set dinner table and steaming fish being served. A fresh catch was always the tastiest; he’d learned that was true for most types of meat.

Once he was in the bathroom, Will was quick to strip down. He’d take care of the laundry later. If he was lucky, Hannibal might even take care of it for him. If there was one thing Hannibal didn’t like, it was a messy house. Often times, he was too bothered by it to wait for a nice chat to remind Will he needed to clean it up. The shower was more important. Will hung his jacket on the back of the bathroom door and left the rest of his clothes on the floor.

He turned the water on hot, then stepped under the stream once it delivered on that. He stood like that just long enough to feel the beginning of a burn before turning the knob again. Once the water was lukewarm, he started with his hair.

When Will stepped downstairs for dinner, he did so almost fashionably late and not dressed for the occasion. He was wearing a loose V-neck sweater with a comfortable pair of jeans. He figured he was owed the dress down, given all the work he’d had to do. Abigail got a head start on the clean-up, so she was dressed as nicely as she ought to be. She was seated alone at the table, amongst the centerpieces and the three place settings. Will sat across from her at an empty one.

A moment later, Hannibal stepped out. Fashionably late always meant Will missed the beginning pleasantries. Straight to the part where they were served. It smelled divine, and the smell of it alone took Will’s head from the present. He was hungry; Hannibal could spew his French words and long explanations of what they were about to partake in, and all Will really cared about was the fact that it was fish and it smelled good. He was ready to dig in the moment Hannibal had set the plate in front of him.

He waited. He waited until Hannibal sat down, and then the meal could begin. There was wine, even for Abigail, and there was the sound of quiet classical music played somewhere in the distance. It was a peaceful dinner, much like all the other dinners they shared. No matter what they dined on, what type of flesh, it was always good. Always welcome. The conversation was pleasant and welcome, too. Hannibal asked all about their trip, and he sounded so genuinely interested that it was endearing.

Abigail talked the most, which was just the proof that Will needed to know she had enjoyed it and wasn’t just being sarcastic when she said so. She talked about Will falling ass-first into the stream with a particular amount of glee that had Hannibal grinning, too. He even looked at Will with just the right amount of sympathy that Will was sure he would never live this down. And so, dinner continued.

They finished the meal right around the story of eating granola bars for dinner the night prior because neither of them had been awake enough to really have an urge to cook something proper. Hannibal was rather offended at the idea, but he didn’t say anything. His smile was cordial and polite as he put his utensils down on the plate; always prim and proper.

“I am glad to hear you two had a wonderful time,” he said.

Abigail snorted, almost laughing. “You always do that,” she said. “You get that little crinkle in your nose like you’re _not_ happy we had a good time.”

“Why would you say that?” Hannibal inquired.

“It’s obvious,” Abigail responded as she stood up. She started to gather up the plates; her night to do dishes. “I think you’re afraid we’re going to have so much fun we might not come back.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, then exchanged a glance with Will, who just shrugged. He entirely agreed with Abigail’s assessment; he just hadn’t wanted to be the one to say something.

“It’s stupid, of course,” Abigail continued. When she stepped up to Hannibal’s side to take his dishes, she gave him an overly cheeky smile. “This is home,” she said.

Once again, Hannibal just looked at Will, who smiled. He agreed with that assessment too, and he made sure to wave at Abigail as she stepped out of the dining room and back into the kitchen.

“You two must have riveting conversations,” Hannibal stated.

“Something like that.”

“Well then. I suppose we should prepare for our night in. What exciting activity have you two plotted to drag me into, this time?” Hannibal stood up from his chair. As any proper gentleman would, he pulled back Will’s to help him up.

“You act like we’re going to torture you.”

“Will, darling, you forced me to play _Candyland_ last weekend.”

Will smiled. “You’ll enjoy this one, I promise.”

Hannibal didn’t believe that for a moment, but he was happily led out to the family room. It wouldn’t take Abigail long to do the dishes, and then she would join them for what Will introduced as a rousing game of Monopoly. It would be a painfully exciting evening.

It began promptly when Abigail sat down, her hands smelling of freshly applied lotion. Will had everything set up for when she arrived, and Hannibal was really just along for the experience. He was learning to enjoy it; it felt a bit too normal, sometimes, for the things that they did. To sit down on a Saturday evening and play a game, no care and the world, felt, often times, like a luxury they couldn’t afford. Among the many that they could, this was almost priceless. Still, there they were.

Will had a penchant for the dog game piece. They weren’t at liberty to have a pet, with the threat of having to take off again always looming over them. Will missed his dogs; he really didn’t even know if they were still around. None of them knew much of what they’d left behind. As long as it didn’t follow them here, it was less of a concern then what was here. That included the dogs.

Abigail was the boat. She picked the hat piece for Hannibal, because she didn’t trust him to actually pick a piece if it were left up to him. With their pieces picked, the game began.

It quickly turned out to be a game that they should not play together, because they were each too good at it in their own way. Hannibal had a way of turning the auctions into twenty-minute long sessions in which his tactic to get what he wanted was to dig deep. Will knew too much about the game than anyone had any right to know. It was easy to trade a monopoly for a monopoly when he knew that his was better. Abigail just had an insane amount of luck, which they’d known from the beginning.

In the end, Will’s experience failed him, and he relinquished all of his belongings and three hotels with a guttural groan to Hannibal’s superior play. From there, it was a showdown between Hannibal and Abigail. Who could outsmart the other? They’d been playing for two hours, and still, there was no decided winner. At two-and-a-half, Will was begging for a tie. It was getting late. They didn’t have any Sunday commitments, but Will didn’t want to spend the entirety of it still watching Monopoly.

“Perhaps we ought to call it a friendly draw, then.” Hannibal was starting to agree.

“I’d suggest we just leave it here for tomorrow, but how could I trust you not to mess with anything while I’m not watching?” Abigail asked, a raised eyebrow.

Hannibal offered a grin. “I concede to you then, my dear. Congratulations.”

A wide grin bloomed across Abigail’s face. She’d won. She jumped up in her obnoxiously fake cheer before calming, almost instantly. She was still smiling, but her exhaustion showed.

“I’m going off to bed, then,” she said. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Abigail.” Will waved.

“Yes, sleep well,” Hannibal added.

Abigail waved back before winding around the couch. Hannibal and Will sat there in complete silence until Abigail’s footsteps had all but disappeared, and only then did Will move. He’d slumped down on the floor halfway through their monopoly battle, but now, he pulled himself back up onto the couch to sit next to Hannibal. There was just another moment of silence before Will was sure Abigail was upstairs and in her room. Then, he looked at Hannibal, wringing his hands together.

“Perhaps we should clean up the mess,” Hannibal said.

“Or,” Will stopped, grabbing Hannibal’s wrist before he could touch even a single fake dollar, “we could do something else.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “What precisely did you have in mind?”

“Well, Abigail’s gone to bed…” Will trailed off.

Hannibal grinned. “Is this the reason you were late for dinner?” He moved closer, just an inch.

“Don’t act like you’re not the one who _planted the idea_.” Will rolled his eyes.

Hannibal chuckled. He reached across the remaining space, pressing his fingers into the line of Will’s jaw. They looked at each other for a beat. A second heartbeat. And that was the end of it. There were two weeks sitting between them, and it was too much to bear for a second longer. It didn’t matter who moved first, only that the both of them all but slammed together in a sudden, searing kiss. Too long. It’d been too long, and they were both _itching_ for something.

Will tugged Hannibal closer, his arms wrapped tightly around Hannibal’s neck. Their kiss deepened, heads tilting together, heat spreading. Will pulled until Hannibal couldn’t hold himself up anymore, and then they both fell back against the couch. When Will intended to wedge his leg up between Hannibal and the couch, just another way to have Hannibal _closer_ , Hannibal pulled back. He peeled Will’s arms from his neck in order to ensure that he could not be pulled down again.

“We should take this elsewhere,” Hannibal said, like it was a command. He was sure to only be worried about the state of the furniture, but the way he’d said the words had Will shivering.

“Don’t have to,” Will assured. He shifted up, relishing in that look of surprise on Hannibal’s face, and reached for the end table. It was one of those tables that wasn’t for unruly living behaviors, and Will had done the unruliest thing he could think to it. He pulled open the drawer and rummaged around before revealing his cardinal furniture sin. He’d stashed a bottle of lubricant right there, in plain sight.

“We never use any of this stuff.” The furniture. Will slid back down the couch to lay out. Hannibal had sat back, in the meantime, and it was the perfect excuse for Will to make himself entirely too comfortable. He leaned against the pillows and raised his feet up onto the couch, resting them right on the curve of Hannibal’s thighs. His knees were bent; Will didn’t miss the way Hannibal looked at him, taking in the bend of his knees, the subtle space between them.

“You’re proposing quite the creative use.” Hannibal’s gaze was only caught by the bottle, as Will presented it.

“Are you going to say no?” Will asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I could always go take care of myself if the _furniture_ is too important.” Will made a show of it, then, spreading his knees apart so Hannibal had the perfect sightline to the growing bulge in his pants. Will even reached down to palm at himself, making no short of the show in the way that he shuddered.

“As much as that may be a sight to see,” Hannibal began, as he shrugged off his perfectly tailored jacket, “I have something a bit more efficient in mind.”

“Oh, efficient,” Will hummed. “You know how those words make me.”

Hannibal might have rolled his eyes if he were the type to do so. Instead, he shot Will the most disappointed look he could manage while he worked on the buttons of his shirt.

“Get over here,” Will ordered. “You don’t get to have all the fun.”

Hannibal grinned, and he did just that. He took Will’s little petulant bottle from him and set it on the coffee table, then toed off his shoes. He found his place on the couch between Will’s thigh’s, kneeling between them. Will didn’t give him even a moment to find whatever composure it was he was so unwilling to lose. Instead, Will tugged him right down for a hard and ragged kiss. This time, there were teeth, tugging at Hannibal’s bottom lip. Hannibal breathed hard against him, working his hands beneath the hem of Will’s ratty sweater.

Will sucked in a deep breath and dragged his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, pulling him closer. Impossibly close. Hannibal’s fingers danced over his skin in return, dragging nails up his stomach and to his chest, where Hannibal made no subtlety in grabbing whatever loose skin he could dig his claws into. Will just breathed harder, his eyes closing tightly and a moan escaping from his throat. Still, their kiss didn’t break. When Hannibal titled his head just right, there was tongue instead of teeth, and Will couldn’t help but arch his back.

In the next moment, Will’s focus was getting Hannibal’s shirt undone. Getting it off. He tugged at the buttons, at the fabric; if he ripped anything, he knew he’d be in for it, so he tried to be careful. He plucked button after button as Hannibal kissed him deeper, crowded closer. He had Will’s knees up around his waist and their hips pressed together. Will groaned, bucking his hips up to grind their cocks together. He reached between them, tugging Hannibal’s shirt out of his belt line to undo those last couple of buttons.

Then, Hannibal pulled back. Their kiss separated with hard breathing, fogged gazes. Hannibal always looked so put together that it never too much to leave him a disheveled mess. It was a look that always had a strike of heat spreading down Will’s groin. He couldn’t help but roll his hips again, just a teasing touch as he bit down on the back of his finger. Focus. Something. He didn’t know—all he could do was watch as Hannibal shrugged his shirt from his shoulders.

“This is quite devious of you, Will,” Hannibal said. Will half expected Hannibal to start undoing his belt, but instead, he reached forward to hook his fingers in the waistband of Will’s jeans. They were loose enough that they’d come right down. “I suspect this outfit was deliberate, then. It would be quite inappropriate if a certain someone was to know how long you’ve been thinking about this.”

Will hummed. “All night,” he said into his hand. “All night, Hannibal.”

Hannibal visibly shuddered. “Whatever will I do with you?”

“ _Fuck_ me.” It wasn’t a suggestion, and Hannibal wouldn’t dare take it like one.

With one clean tug, he had Will’s jeans down his hips. Hannibal shifted Will’s legs to one side, making the slide easier. Once Will’s jeans were on the floor, his legs were left in the air—bare—resting on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal couldn’t resist himself; he never could. He ran his fingers along Will’s skin, digging down hard enough with his nails to leave angry red marks as he felt everything, from the cartilage in his knees to the tight muscles in his thighs.

“You’ve always had such beautiful legs,” Hannibal said just before pressing his lips to Will’s calf.

“They’re not on the menu,” Will responded, jolting that particular leg back. He hooked it around Hannibal’s other shoulder and used his sudden leverage to yank Hannibal closer. “You’ve been fed. The only place I want that mouth tonight is my cock.”

Hannibal grinned. “Careful,” he said, making a pointed grab at Will’s ass as he felt for the waistband of his underwear. “Nobody likes an arrogant _bitch_ , darling.”

Will groaned as Hannibal wrenched his legs back. He had Will’s underwear off in the next second, and then shifted Will around until he was in the exact position he wanted him in. Will knew the moment he was yanked down, bent almost in half to have his ass in the air and his legs dangling down over Hannibal’s shoulders, that he wasn’t in charge. When Hannibal asked for the lubricant, Will grabbed it and handed it over, no questions asked.

He watched, tentatively, as Hannibal spread the substance over his fingers. Then, a drop or two over Will’s cleft that had him shuddering. Cold. Hannibal didn’t care. This was more about stroking his own ego than it was getting on with things. Hannibal had _intimate_ knowledge of how this worked, and he always used it to his advantage. He worked a single, slick finger into Will, while he stroked his straining cock with his other hand. Will reacted almost immediately to the touch, rolling his head to the side and grunting.

He took it so easily, so willingly. Hannibal pressed into him slowly, purposefully; he knew exactly where to bend and crook his finger to make Will’s hips buck, to make his jaw drop open. It almost wasn’t fair. That coupled with the hand around his cock, Will was already shaking. He bit down on his knuckles just as Hannibal squeezed the base of his cock; it only barely muffled the resulting moan. Will closed his eyes tightly and just lost himself to the feeling.

Hannibal worked his finger deeper, stroking Will inside until he was pliant enough, open enough to take the second finger. Then, Hannibal did exactly as Will had told him. He tugged at Will’s cock once, twice more before shifting forward and sinking down over it. Will cried out as Hannibal took him straight to the back of his throat, working his tongue along the underside and hollowing out his cheeks. It was a tight, hot pressure, and Will shook with it. At the same time, Hannibal pressed his fingers right into Will’s pelvis and had his hips jerking again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Will cried out, his thighs going taut as a rush of pleasure took him. Everything was suddenly so intense, like he could _feel_ Hannibal’s fingers working together, one set inside and one set out.

Hannibal worked his fingers deeper, fucking Will on them as slowly as he could manage. He stretched them apart, massaging the pads right into Will’s walls. He crooked his fingers. Tilted them. Moved them to match the touch of his fingers against Will’s groin. A perfectly timed massage that had Will falling to pieces right in front of him. This was the part that was more ego stroking than anything, because Hannibal knew exactly how to get Will off just like this. And he proved it, time and time again.

He sucked along Will’s length, swirling his tongue right over the tip each time he had the chance. Will’s cock twitched in his mouth, _dripped_ with the very pleasure that had Will shaking. Falling apart right under his hand. Hannibal couldn’t help himself when it came to this. He pressed a third finger into him, and Will’s hips bucked in response. He opened right up for the sudden stretch, moaned into his hand at the feeling of it. Hannibal worked him like he owned him, and it always left Will a bit hot, his mind a bit fogged.

Will all but bit down on the back of his hand as his hips began to shake again. Hannibal pressed his fingers in just right, massaging into his walls, and _dragged_ an orgasm right out of him. Will’s eyes all but rolled back into his head, and Hannibal swallowed everything. Swallowed around his cock, working the underside with his tongue. He milked Will for all he was worth until all that was left was abortive, twitching thrusts of Will’s hips. Then, Hannibal pulled off of Will’s cock.

“Keep quiet, now,” Hannibal said. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear.”

Will nodded idly, shifting so he could cover his own mouth. He didn’t know what to expect, but his eyes went wide when Hannibal moved down and mouthed right over his hole, where fingers disappeared inside of him. Will moaned into his hand, hoping to at least muffle himself if he couldn’t shut _up_ , but god, it felt good. It was too long coming, and everything felt like a live wire against his skin. Hannibal’s mouth was hot and wet against him, and the more his tongue probed, the more Will could just _feel_ himself opening up.

When Hannibal’s tongue pressed into him, Will all but lost it. He was still riding the high from his orgasm, and everything was elevated. Sensitive. His back arched, or tried to, and he scrambled to grab hold of something to ground himself.

“Hannibal—Hannibal, _fuck_ ,” he cried. He clenched around the intrusion, panting. It was almost like he could _feel_ Hannibal grin against his skin, and it only made him shiver. Hannibal was using him, and it felt good. It felt better than anything ever had, giving himself to Hannibal like this.

It was only with an ounce of pity that Hannibal finally relented. He pulled back, his tongue and his fingers, and let Will go lax against the couch. Will slumped, flat against the couch with only his legs still in the air, ankles hooked over Hannibal’s shoulders. Hannibal just watched him try to catch his breath, all the while massaging Will’s calves in a way that might help him relax.

“Do you have more demands for me?” Hannibal asked.

Will groaned, shifting. “Just one,” he said.

“Shall we hear it, then? You’ve been making demands all evening.”

Will had just enough strength to pull Hannibal down, just the slightest bit, to lock his ankles behind his head. “ _Fuck_ me,” Will spat.

“Here I thought you’d be more pliant after that.”

Will just snorted. Hannibal wasn’t saying no. If anything, he was eager to get on with it. His cock was straining in his pants, pressing against the seam of his zipper in a most uncomfortable way. He took only a moment to work himself out of his pants, a moment longer to spread lubricant down his shaft. Hannibal shuddered at his own touch, clearly teetering right on the edge of too much and not enough. He wiped his hand clean on Will’s sweater, and Will was too gone to care. He’d throw it in the washer.

Then, Hannibal was shifting against him, taking a hold of his leg with one hand and a hold of his own cock with the other. The _heat_ that came from the first drag of the tip through Will’s cleft had him shivering, rolling his hips in a sad attempt to get _more_. Hannibal couldn’t hold himself together, after that. He was a sweating mess with his hair all askew, and it was Will’s fault. The things Will did to him were unfathomable. Will turned him into this, and it was only right that Will reap the rewards.

Hannibal snapped his hips forward, and Will barely managed to cover his mouth before he moaned. The sudden punch of pleasure took hold of him completely, leaving him breathless, witless. All he could do was cry out as Hannibal fucked into him, working his cock deeper and deeper with each shallow little thrust. When their hips were flush together, when Will could feel the press of Hannibal’s zipper against his skin, Hannibal just ground into him. A slow, purposeful movement as he bent Will in half and hovered over him.

“Is this what you wanted?” Hannibal asked, a smug, facetious little grin on his lips.

“ _More_ ,” was all Will could gasp. He grabbed for Hannibal, threading his fingers through his hair to keep him close.

Hannibal obliged, and in the next second, they were locked in a searing kiss of teeth and tongue. Hannibal rocked forward, pulling back and sinking in deep again. Every thrust left Will breathless, left him panting and moaning right into their kiss. Hannibal groaned in response as Will clenched down around him. They rocked together, _moved_ together as they were each desperate for more.

Oh, it was slow, and it was deep. Will rolled his head back, away from the kiss, and just _moaned_ as Hannibal rocked into him. Hannibal dragged his teeth along Will’s jaw, down the length of his neck until he found the perfect place to bite down. Will shuddered around him, pulling back on Hannibal’s hair as he groaned. Hannibal didn’t relent. He sucked along Will’s skin, high enough on his neck that there would be no easy to way to hide it. He dug his teeth down, pressed his tongue into blooming bruises, and Will just _shook_ beneath him.

Hannibal’s hips snapped forward, and Will ground down to meet every thrust. They rocked together, breathed in each other’s air as Hannibal moved to hover just inches from Will’s lips. They looked at each other, got lost in each other, and met in another hard kiss. Hannibal worked his hand down between them to take hold of Will’s cock then, his resounding moan nothing more than a keening beg for _more_. Hannibal swallowed it.

He stroked Will at the same pace he fucked with—hard, purposefully. He knew exactly how to angle his hips, the head of his cock brushing against Will’s prostate almost every time. It kept him open, kept him pliant. Kept him begging for more, and Hannibal provided. He was the only one who could provide this, and they were both coming to understand that. When Hannibal stroked him, Will went to new heights of pleasure. Their position kept him mostly still, but he moaned into Hannibal’s kiss with each pass of his hand.

“Hannibal—” Will broke their kiss apart, gasping the name as his hips bucked.

Hannibal shushed him. “Quiet now.”

Will closed his eyes tightly and groaned, arching his back and his neck back. He was on perfect display, and Hannibal couldn’t resist the invitation to crowd closer and just lavish Will’s neck with his lips. More kisses, more bites and marks. Will’s hips bucked wildly against Hannibal’s, taking him in deeper. Their hips, together. Hannibal groaned into Will’s skin; he wasn’t going to last much longer.

He pulled away from the kiss, grabbing Will by the ankles and pushing his knees down to his chest to fuck him harder. Will bit down onto his knuckles as the onslaught came, trying not to make more than a peep, but he was helpless to it. He moaned into his hand, and bit down harder. Hannibal didn’t relent, not even when Will’s nails dug through the couch fabric. If anything, Hannibal just snapped his hips harder, deeper. Chasing his own pleasure now with Will’s body tight around him.

When Hannibal came, he tried to quiet himself as best he could. He still groaned, low in his throat in a way that had Will crying out again. The last stuttering thrusts of Hannibal’s hips was enough to bring Will back over the edge. His cock gave a sad, abortive twitch as he came. He was too wrapped up in the feeling of Hannibal’s cock inside of him, all but shaking as Hannibal’s orgasm ripped through him. When the rush stopped, Hannibal just fell forward. It was uncomfortable, but Will could let it slide for a minute.

Instead of complaining, he just ran his fingers through Hannibal’s hair.

“I have to take another fucking shower, now,” Will grumbled. “Whatever happened to a decent pull out.”

Hannibal smiled. “You didn’t ask. I would be more than agreeable to assisting your shower, however.”

Will hummed. “I guess that makes up for it. You have to get off of me, first.”

“Another moment. Just a moment.”

Will agreed, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He was tired, and Hannibal was a full-grown man. There wasn’t enough strength left in Will’s body to get Hannibal up, so he just had to wait.

They laid there until Will could feel Hannibal’s cock go soft inside of him, and that was a good enough cue for Hannibal to finally get up. This was arguably his favorite part, pulling back after giving Will the unfair chance to get used to such a feeling inside of him. The little whimper Will let out as Hannibal’s cock slipped out of him was incredible, and it had Hannibal’s chest swell with a deep intake of breath.

Hannibal then had the unfortunate pleasure of stuffing himself back into his pants. He couldn’t very well walk upstairs like that, and Will was starting to look like he couldn’t walk at all. That was just fine. Hannibal had carried him before, and he would do it again. Will just had to hold their dirty clothes, because Hannibal would only make so many allowances. Hannibal scooped Will off the couch, arms around his shoulders and under his knees, and took him upstairs.

Once the laundry was deposited into the hamper and Will was deposited into the bath, Hannibal’s focus changed. He stripped down so that he might join Will in the hot water to make good on his promise of assistance. Whether that assistant meant a quick job to get them into bed or a long, drawn out experience with Will writhing in his lap, breached open on as many fingers as he could take, was still yet to be decided. Hannibal hoped for the latter, and that was precisely what he was got.

They were prunes by the time they got out of the water, with plenty of exhaustion to last the both of them. Will was moments away from falling asleep, but Hannibal ensured he was at least decent before that happened. It was his own special definition of decent where, in Will’s state, he was easy to maneuver and dress. Hannibal put Will in his own shirt, a long button up with looser sleeves than Hannibal tended to prefer. It fit Will perfectly, though, and it would make for quite the spectacle in the morning.

It wasn’t quite long enough to keep Will covered. In the morning, after what Hannibal was sure would be a slow and lazy wake up where they were more concerned with each other than they were getting up and getting ready for the day, he would see Will step out of bed. Will would be wearing this shirt, the tip of his cock peeking out from just beneath the hem of it. His ass would be on perfect display. He wouldn’t leave the room like that, but oh, he would never mind staying in the room a bit longer than necessary.

Hannibal wouldn’t change a thing about it and helped Will into bed. Will had this uncanny ability to find the middle of the bed, with absolutely no concern for sides or personal space. Hannibal had minded, in the beginning, but there were times like this where it was what he craved. As he crawled into his own side of the bed, Will was already turning towards the middle. Hannibal met him there, and Will fell asleep against his chest.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> I have witten so many words in the past day i have no energy to capitalize things anymore goodbye  
> [Check me out on Tumblr!](https://tantumuna.tumblr.com)  
> [My Twitter!](https://twitter.com/tantumunawrites)  
> 


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